


"convince me"

by firelordazulas



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: F/F, gaaayy, okay this isnt much more than gay fluff but what were yall expectin from me lez be real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelordazulas/pseuds/firelordazulas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when she strides in, your eyes involuntarily linger on her legs, on the way her belt cinches at her waist, on the bolder than usual eye makeup she's wearing, and you suddenly realise that she is once again on the market, with one almost ex wife dead and the other almost wife refusing to talk to her. the flirting is a usual part of your dynamic and you wonder if it still will be, if there'll be an edge of seriousness to your interactions now that's she's free to take you up on it and you're - well. you're you. the butterflies in your stomach, however, are both unwanted and unwelcome - why are you even bothered? it's just Hogarth, the ice princess with too much money who’s disgustingly good at her job. but, well, you're not blind and she is very, very attractive - there should probably be some kind of law against looking that good a month after the death/murder/whatever of your ex-wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"convince me"

she's marble and you're aware of how much she wishes to cut glass, how used to the feeling of things breaking she is - you like to think it's one of the main things you have in common. she's as unused to not hurting as you are, to not playing by the rules, to leaving a trail of dead bodies in your wake - the spheres you move in are similar, after all, the damage you've done large and unavoidable.   
when she looks at you, murmurs “convince me” with that little smirk lingering at the corner of her mouth, you feel like you've been thrown all the way back to your first crush on your English teacher when you were 13, to the same sweaty palms and need to prove yourself that had been the foundation of your breadth of feeling for that woman back then and this woman now, to the same feelings of inadequacy as you did then with your lack of results, of proof, but this wasn't missed homework and godfuckingdamnit you'd get Kilgrave, you would, you'd show her everything and be proven right and maybe she’d be forced to believe you -  
but you didn't want this. you didn't want her covered in her own blood, dead body on her floor, her a murderer it's all her fault it's all her fault it's all her fault -  
and you don't see her again until she's striding into your courtroom and saving you saving you saving you - and maybe this isn't the traditionally heroic thing but God have you suffered for that vile man, because of him and in spite of him and you're sure this won't be the end of the nightmares he visits upon you, that his ghost will linger over you -  
and you invite her out for coffee. you couldn't say why, maybe pity, maybe sympathy, maybe anger, but you do actually kind of need the cases she brings you and she's useful and, well, these are the excuses you tell yourself to justify what is easily some of your lousiest decision making.  
it's slightly awkward. you realise as you sit down, 20 minutes early because otherwise you would've been late, that not only have you never seen Jeri in a social fashion, you've not seen anyone in a purely social fashion since Before Kilgrave. apart from Trish, anyway, and even that wasn't entirely without ulterior motives - you're not sure whether to call that time the Kilgrave Resurgence or just shove it all under the Kilgrave section and try to never think about it ever again. the latter option is probably what you'll do, knowing your general emotional ineptitude.

when she strides in, your eyes involuntarily linger on her legs, on the way her belt cinches at her waist, on the bolder than usual eye makeup she's wearing, and you suddenly realise that she is once again on the market, with one almost ex wife dead and the other almost wife refusing to talk to her. the flirting is a usual part of your dynamic and you wonder if it still will be, if there'll be an edge of seriousness to your interactions now that's she's free to take you up on it and you're - well. you're you. the butterflies in your stomach, however, are both unwanted and unwelcome - why are you even bothered? it's just Hogarth, the ice princess with too much money who’s disgustingly good at her job. but, well, you're not blind and she is very, very attractive - there should probably be some kind of law against looking that good a month after the death/murder/whatever of your ex-wife.  
“nice eye-shadow. got a hot date I should know about?”  
Hogarth rolled her eyes, dumping her bag on an empty chair and then carefully removing her coat. she's classy, you have to give her that, and the sight of her arms in that posh, probably designer tank top makes your brain fritz a little. not that you'd admit it.  
“if that's how this is going to go, I'm going to need a lot of coffee.”  
she sweeps past you to the counter, leaving you to lowkey grin after her. god, do you love winding that woman up. god, does she look hot when she's pissed off.  
you pretend to play with your phone while she's gone, aimlessly scrolling through Facebook, when suddenly she appears at your shoulder, scaring the shit out of you and also judging the cat meme you'd been in the middle of sharing.  
“I realised I didn't ask if you wanted anything?” her eyebrow is raised and she sounds slightly pained.  
“oh, erm, a peppermint mocha would be great?” you start rooting through your pockets,”I think I have the right change if you give me a sec -”  
“no, no. I'll get it.” you like to think that's a smile lingering around her mouth but it's probably just your imagination - the lingering hand on your shoulder, however, is definitely not just in your head.

she brushes her arm against you as she sets down your coffee and sits in the chair closest, instead of the one opposite she put her coat on the back of. you can feel your eyebrow creeping ever higher as she slants her crossed legs towards, leaning back in her chair but still managing to look somehow regal. if you didn't know better you'd think she was hitting on you, but a) no b) that's a terrible idea c) she'd never be interested.  
but. if she was. it took all your willpower not to aggressively facepalm yourself. see b, jess, b!  
she's practically oozing charm and it's strange when all you're used to is the harsh, cold bitch routine. you're beginning to unwillingly understand the why she's so good at her job, minus the obvious examples of blackmail and bribes that you made sure you had evidence of before you first got involved in her cases.   
“okay, I gotta pee.” bursts out your mouth before you can't think about it or she can start talking.  
once locked in a stall you sit down heavily on the lid of the toilet. it's alarmingly tempting to just jump out the window and never come back. then again, you'd be unable to ever see Hogarth again - and, additionally, you never let anything beat you, most of all ice queens with superiority complexes and really good legs.  
“Jessica? are you okay?”  
“fuck,” you whisper, then get up, flush the toilet, and unlock the cubicle.  
Jeri is stood exactly opposite, leaning on the sink with her ankles crossed and hands braced behind her. this has the effect of just generally making all her limbs look fantastic and you're pretty sure she knows it.  
you affect your usual saunter and step right up next to her to wash your hands. you're used to being taller than pretty much all women, but with her heels she's actually a tiny bit taller that you, and this close you have to look up to sass her. “awh, were you worried about me?”  
“You have a habit of running away from anything from your problems - I figured I better check you hadn’t escaped out the window.”  
“not yet, I mean it could happen any second now.” you're not going to admit that you were literally considering doing just that, obviously.  
you step around her again to get to the hand dryer. she doesn't move an inch apart from her head, turning to follow you, and it’d be unnerving if she wasn't so hot, and honestly when did you get so thirsty over her anyway - “don't you have an expensive bag and phone you should be worried about?”  
“hmmm, true. you're sure you're not going to run off?”  
“if I was going to I think I'd have done it when I first entered the bathroom.”  
“good.” a smile and a long, warm to sizzling look and she's brushing past you, hand lingering on the small of your back and heels clicking on the tile.  
“deep breaths, Jess. just. breathe.”  
when you go back out, Jeri is packing up her stuff and it takes you watching her put her coat back on to realise this means she’s leaving.  
“I’m so sorry, something’s come up at work, you know how it is, but we absolutely must do this again soon -” and she rounds the table towards you as you try not to obviously take a step back - “text me to arrange something.” and she’s leaning in, smirking, a hand on your waist, a very real and perhaps longer than appropriate kiss on your cheek. She only leans away a tiny bit to say this “this was lovely,” before kissing your other cheek. “Maybe dinner next time, hmmm?” Her voice is low and surprisingly genuine sounding, a small smile lingering, face newly warm and open.   
And then she’s gone, coffee and handbag deftly swept up without breaking stride. As you watch her strut away, you sink heavily into a chair and groan, making sure she’s well out of sight before you drop your head onto the table.  
“I’m fucked.”

When you get home, she’s already texted you a time and place, not giving you a choice on whether you can make it or not. Then again, she probably knows you don’t actually have any cases at the moment - shit, you hope she’s paying for dinner, because at this point you’re running a little low on cash.  
It’s halfway through you doing an eat and run with Hogarth in tow that you’re interrupted by another text from the woman herself.  
I’m paying for dinner. Also, you might want to dress up a little bit - there’s a dress code.  
Of course there was.

The place is as fancy as you’d expected, and you arrive early to find Jeri already there. She very obviously looks you up and down even though you’ve literally just put on some nicer jeans and boots - and in comparison to the very nice black dress, heels and dark lipstick on you feel almost underdressed. If you cared about that, of course.  
Then again, every lesbian couple needs a butch one right? She can have the hair, you can have the clothes and attitude - you practically slap yourself mid thought.   
“So. This is fancy.” You sling your jacket on the back of a chair and slump down heavily, sitting opposite Hogarth.  
“Well, you know me. I prefer the best.”  
“Ah, expensive taste to match that expensive haircut, of course.”  
“You don’t get very far as a lawyer around here if you don’t look the part.” She takes a sip of wine that probably costs as much as you make in a busy two weeks. “I ordered a bottle if you want some wine.”  
“Don’t mind if I do. How fancy is it - will it burn my unrefined palette?”  
“I’m quite certain it’s unlikely to literally melt your mouth, yes, although I wouldn’t be adverse to witnessing that.”  
“Careful, or I’ll burn you with my laser eyes.”  
“No, you wouldn’t, you need me to give you cases.” She leant in closer, and you suddenly realised just how intimate this table was - “Admit it. You like me.”  
Imitating her, you also lean in. “Not a chance. I’m just here for the free posh wine.”  
“Of course.” She smirks, her eyes dart down to look at your lips, and she leans back, leaving you hanging and draping herself regally over her chair.  
You mirror her, pouting slightly, and slouch back, albeit in a much less elegant fashion than Hogarth. The wine is predictably excellent, and you take a long sip to savour. God, it’s been a long time since you drank alcohol for the taste.  
“You ever been here before? What’s good to eat?”  
“The lobster, of course, but also most of the chicken dishes are passable.”  
“Hmmm, fancy place like this, I bet they do a mean steak.”  
She inclined her head. “Of course. Don’t ask for it anything but rare or they might try and kick us out.”  
“Oh, I was planning on asking for it well done, because I really feel like fighting a shitty cook right now.”  
“If you do, please make sure they’ve already cooked my food.”  
“Sure, I’d hate to inconvenience you.”  
There’s a slightly tense minute of joint smirking. Then, Jeri clears her throat and looks away, breaking the moment, leaving you to awkwardly fumble for your wine glass for something to do.  
“So. How’s work?”   
It’s a perfunctory question, but Jeri’s often hilarious anecdotes tide the conversation over until your plates are being collected and dessert menus are handed out.  
“Are you going to get dessert?” Jeri asks.  
“Well, yeah, I’m not paying for it, and it’s not like I have to worry about working the weight off.”  
You get some chocolate monstrosity while she just gets coffee. First bite in you practically cry over how nice it is, and before you know what’s happening Jeri is stealing spoonfuls of it.  
“So you’re one of those girlfriends, huh? The ones who don’t order dessert and then steal all of it.”  
“Do you have much experience with girlfriends?” She carves out the last solid chocolate chunk, and then flicks her eyes up at you, practically fluttering her eyelashes.  
“Oh, come on, you could’ve at least been subtle about that. Yes, I’ve had girlfriends in the past. No, I’m not straight. Happy?”  
“Ecstatic.” she murmured, and licked her spoon.

When the two of you get up to leave, you surprise even yourself by helping her put her coat on, defensively muttering “What? It’s polite.” in response to her raised eyebrows.   
Then you sit literally right next to her in the back of her town car, after she’d so nicely offered to give you a ride home, and god, you probably shouldn’t have had that last glass of wine. You keep swaying into her whenever you go round corners and giving her shifty sideways looks under your eyelashes, which is apparently the last straw for Jeri.  
Rolling her eyes with a muttered, “For heaven’s sake,” She grabs your face and pulls you into a slightly awkward kiss, the angles all wrong, but you still desperately grab at her neck, stroking the line of her jaw.   
“I was going to wait until I walked you to your door, but clearly you just couldn’t wait.”  
“How about we just go straight to yours?”  
She kisses you again, apparently her form of deliberation, and whatever answer she finds there must be positive. “Fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> eurgh the ending 4 this is so lazy but i didnt rly know what i wanted 2 do and i think i made jess 2 like quiet ?? like. rip. but then im not witty enough 2 write her so i guess thats just Suffering


End file.
